Page 2 of Rebel Romeo

He snorted a laugh that was anything but humorous. “This hideous thing? The only way I’d give this to a woman as a gift was if I secretly hated her.”

The very ring Missy now wore on her thumb was the ring he’d told me he’d only give to a woman he secretly hated. That couldn’t be a coincidence. He couldn’t have forgotten.

His gaze flashes as it snaps to mine and our breaths syncopate for a long moment before he says, “You know what that ring means to me.” And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a tilt to his lips.

It’s not what he’s saying, but what he isn’t saying that increases my suspicions.

Whatever this is with Missy, it’s not what it appears. I don’t know why he’s in this fake relationship with her or why he can’t just tell me right now that we’re here alone, but something’s up.

And I’m going to get to the bottom of it. Even if the truth pulverizes the already broken shards of my heart into pure dust.

CHAPTER TWO

Holden sits straight and tall at the head of the production meeting table. “What if I refuse to be an actor in my own show I’m directing?” He stares straight at his father.

Though it’s not exactly a question, one brow lifts in a subtle display of challenge. He pauses, with a quick look at Amy, our composer and playwright. “You might have found a loophole in Amy’s contract that forces her to change her script. But I combed through my contract last night and it’s ironclad.” A confident smirk splays on his face and he folds his hand on the table. “Thanks for the lawyer recommendation, Dad.”

Senator Erik Dorsey, Holden’s dad, doesn’t shift his expression. Like the stone-faced man I’ve always known, he keeps his cards close to his vest.

The silence at the table is tense.

After a slow sip of his coffee, Senator Dorsey quietly arranges a stack of paperwork beside him into a pile, before looking Holden square in the eyes. “If you’re not going to act in your show, then how do you propose we fix that very public punch you delivered to your leading man’s face last night?”

I slide a glance at Nolan sitting next to me and note the swollen purple and red bruise that bloomed overnight on his tense jaw. The muscle jumps like he’s gritting his teeth and I slide my hand over his beneath the table and give it a friendly squeeze.

Nolan blinks and looks at me, his eyes softening. I smile in what I hope is a reassuring way.

On one hand, Holden shouldn’t have punched him.

On the other hand, Nolan shouldn’t have kissed me after our performance without my consent.

But he apologized. And what’s more, I believe his apology.

We also still have to work together for the foreseeable future. Especially now that I officially signed the contract. I’m stuck working for Holden as his leading lady for a minimum twelve-week performance run… or until the show ends. Whichever comes first.

I’ve seen Broadway shows close within a week if the reviews are bad.

Please, God, don’t let the reviews be bad.

As terrified as I am to work so closely with not only Holden, but his girlfriend, Missy, I’m more terrified of having to go back to slinging coffee as a barista at the coffee shop.

Yep, working with Holden as my director is hard enough. But God help me if I also have to act alongside him again. Being on a stage with Holden as my leading man nearly shattered me once.

This time, I’m sure it would ruin me.

My fears are interrupted by my blaring ringtone and the entire production table goes still, glaring at me as I dig my phone out from my bag. My sister’s name lights up my screen.

Mallory’s calling me? That’s weird. She hardly ever calls me.

I silence it, placing it face down on the table beside my tea. “Sorry,” I mutter.

Fury flashes in Holden’s gaze, before he turns back to his dad. “Well considering that story didn’t seem to make it into any of the news outlets today, I think we’ve pushed them off the scent. For now, at least.”

“Right,” Erik Dorsey says, narrowing his eyes at his son. “Because they think it was part of the show. When they find out you’re not actually in the show, I’d bet a thousand bucks pictures of that punch will surface again.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Holden says and something in his voice catches, making my pause. “But even if it did, by then?—”

Bzzzzzzz. My phone vibrates against the table and even though I technically turned the ringer off, the buzzing is somehow even louder than the actual ringtone.

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